


A Neutral Place

by helens78



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-03
Updated: 2003-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui joins an M4M chat room to request a late-night romp.  Guess who responds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Neutral Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Emma for the beta! And, for that matter, for turning what I'd thought was a cute, off-the-cuff humor fic into a full-fledged series.

He is driving me mad. It would be unfair of me to complain about it, since he doesn't know that I want more from him than sex. Wanting is bad enough. But telling... no. It would complicate things too much. It's been hard enough separating my feelings for my student from my feelings for the man who was once my lover and is now my... what?

We had ended things -- _I_ had ended things -- and I had meant for them to stay ended. I've been telling myself this even as I spend my nights -- more of them than I care to admit -- hoping tonight, for whatever reason, he wants me. I've lost my chance to pretend I don't want him. That pretense died the night he and T'nell decided to seduce me. Gods, the way they looked, tangled together on the couch, T'nell's hand between Obi-Wan's legs, stroking, caressing, both pairs of eyes inviting me to join them... I'm amazed I can look T'nell in the eye these days, when I see him.

Since that night with T'nell, Obi-Wan has come to me four times. I can remember every detail of each time. The time he surprised me in the fresher. (The smell of our soap when I knelt on the floor and washed him, getting him hard under my hands before rinsing him clean and taking him with my mouth.) The time he came home from a club needing more than he'd gotten there. (The kohl around his eyes, the way he came to me, demanding my touch and refusing to allow me to even think about resisting.) A night on a mission when I'd come back to him after spending three nights as a hostage. (The way his hands roamed every inch of my body... the fact that he wouldn't let me turn the lights on.)

And the night when, oh Force, I had been lying in bed so full of need I could hardly breathe. Hours passed as I tried to meditate, unsuccessfully, and then he was there in my doorway, eyes flashing, hard and on me in an instant, not saying a word, leaving as quickly as he'd come... so to speak.

I don't want to spend tonight lying in my bed, alone, with the man I want one thin wall away from me. He is my apprentice; that's all, or that's damned well _going_ to be all. It's time to force myself to start getting over him, to stop pining over him like a lovestruck padawan, to get the thought of his beautiful young body out of my mind. Perhaps I'm not as young as T'nell, but I'm still attractive enough. I can find someone else... at least for the night.

Force bless the holonet. Here on Coruscant, it's easy enough to find a chat room full of horny local men looking to get off. I've looked at these chat rooms, have exchanged holos with a few of the men there, but have never gone through with meeting anyone. I join one of the rooms and give them my description -- older human male, tall, muscular, long brown and silver hair, blue eyes, looking for a hot one-night stand somewhere neutral -- not his place, not mine. It doesn't take long before someone answers with a request to exchange holos and a description of his own -- young human male, medium height, athletic build, green eyes, short red hair. It takes me a moment to make up my mind -- to me, sending my holo means I really intend to go through with this. But I need this. I send mine, and he sends his. His screen name is Tacit; mine is Demier.

I'm sorting through my files, wondering where I have my chat program set to download these holos, when he messages me again.

[Tacit] I have to have you. When can we meet?  
[Demier] The sooner the better. Do you know a club called Aura?  
[Tacit] I can be there in half an hour.  
[Demier] I'll see you then.

I'm impatient enough that it doesn't matter to me that I don't know what he looks like. He knows what I look like, so he can find me. A quick trip to the fresher and a change of clothes, and I make my way out the door, not even leaving a note for Obi-Wan to let him know where I'm going or when to expect me back.

* * *

I sit at a table in Aura, one hand wrapped loosely around my drink, one hand idly playing with the keycard to the room I've rented for the night. As I look around, I find myself rethinking my impulse not to bother looking at his holo. How will I know when he shows up? Suppose he shows up and decides he doesn't want anything to do with me? Suppose I don't want anything to do with him?

My eyes roam the crowd. There are so many people here tonight -- the dance floor is a mass of undulating bodies, the bar full of people meeting, few of them able to keep their hands from each other. The atmosphere here is very much one of sex and need -- which is one of the reasons I chose this place. My own needs are growing more insistent by the moment.

I hear a slight scraping as someone moves the chair at my table and sits down. _Finally_. I'm not sure I care whether it's Tacit or just someone who's taken an interest in me; at this point, either would do. I look over...

...and my heart catches in my chest.

Obi-Wan. What in all the Sith hells is he doing here? Force, he looks beautiful. Breathtaking. He's in civilian clothes, all black, with a long leather jacket that almost covers the lightsaber at his hip. _Always prepared,_ I think, unable to center myself. His eyes are dark, have faded into grey. And they're focused on me in a way I know too well. _That_ look. I've spent years trying to drive that look out of my memories. I'm here trying to fuck that look out of my mind.

He holds out a hand to me, and I lose the ability to think straight. I give him my hand. He leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist -- then leaves a sharp bite on the flesh at the heel of my hand. I don't jump, though it isn't easy not to. My lips part as he looks up at me, my breathing growing heavier. Whatever he's here for, I won't be able to say no.

 

"You're every bit as sexy as your holo was," he murmurs. "Do you have a room yet?"

The look of genuine surprise on my face doesn't rattle him for a second. "Were you expecting me to be taller?" he asks. "I get that a lot."

Oh. _Oh._ Force. Why hadn't I looked at his holo?

"Tacit?" I manage, stumbling over the word a bit.

"Yes."

This has never been one of my fantasies -- not yet, anyway, not with him. But casual, anonymous sex is what I'm here to find. Can I have it with Obi-Wan? Or am I too far gone to keep up the charade?

"I have a room," I tell him.

"You're still allowed to say no," he responds. Is it in or out of character? I can't tell. Either way, he's offering me an out. Do I want to take it?

Force help me, I want nothing of the kind. I want to take him in my arms and show him how he affects me. I want to hear him calling my name -- _my_ name, not T'nell's, not some anonymous stranger's name.

I want everything, but I could settle for this fantasy. And as much as it shames me to admit it, I would settle for far less.

"I can't imagine there's ever been anyone fool enough to turn you down," I tell him, my voice hoarse and lower than I intended. He raises one eyebrow at me.

"It's been known to happen. So, Demier, do you want to talk, or do you want to go upstairs and fuck?"

My groin strongly urges the latter. I pull my hand out of his, get up, and walk around the table to him. He stands, and I grab him by the back of his neck and pull him to me, crushing his mouth to mine. It's intoxicating, better than I remembered, and, Force help me, I'm kissing him in a public place and I don't care...

"I want to go upstairs," I tell him. His hands are tight around my arms, his eyes are closed, and he buries his head in my chest for a moment before looking up at me.

 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a spectacular kisser?"

He has, many times. I feel a slight twisting pain in my chest, and ignore it. I place the room key in his hand and let him lead me upstairs.

* * *

The rooms here are small and cheap, containing nothing but a relatively large bed, a small nightstand with various lubricants and microplas barriers, and a tiny fresher. But they're private, and this one is ours.

"You're sure you want this?" I ask him. Giving him his out, in and out of character. He stares at me in disbelief.

"For--gods, yes." His voice shakes a bit. "Let me look at you."

He takes a step back and just _looks_. I've never felt so exposed, never mind that I'm fully clothed and he's seen me naked hundreds of times. I've never seen him looking at me quite this way before -- I don't even know what this look means.

I raise my shields to keep the feelings that are flooding me from overflowing and flooding him. He frowns for the barest fraction of a second.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers. "Tell me what I can do for you."

I freeze, remembering how he'd always taken this role when we were lovers. Asking, making sure, always showing me that he wanted this, reassuring me, and eventually, when his patience wore thin and my shields grew transparent, demanding and taking. Maybe that was where the surprise a few seconds ago came from: I don't think I've ever asked him if he was sure _he_ wanted _me_ before.

There's more than one reason for the change. Yes, I want him to be sure, but more than that, I don't want to pick up where we left off; I don't want to fall into those old roles again. It didn't work the first time. It isn't going to work now. I want him, but the relationship has always been a bad idea. We're unbalanced due to age, due to our professional relationship. We might always be.

But here, now, in this room, we're equals. Two men who want each other. Nothing more. It doesn't have to be anything more.

"I want to please you. I want to be pleased. Nothing more than that... Tacit."

I put my fingers over his lips, feel him kiss each fingertip as I watch the expression on his face. I know he can sense what I was thinking, that he saw the change in my eyes, no matter how well I might have been shielding. His eyes close as my thumb traces the outline of his mouth. I lean forward, and brush my lips over his.

He moans, softly, a shaking breath escaping between those parted lips. I run my fingertips under the curve of his jaw. He pulls back slightly -- ticklish! he's ticklish there! How had I never noticed before?

I bring him back to me, ducking my head so I can nuzzle the skin under his jaw. I suck on a particularly sensitive spot just under his left ear and am rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. It makes me laugh, just a bit, and I kiss down the side of his neck to his shoulder. I run my hands up under his jacket, and then down his back, pulling his shirt free from his pants so I can feel bare skin. One of my hand reaches under the back of his shirt and up his back; the other goes over the front of his shirt, up his chest, up to his neck. I begin tugging at his jacket.

"This has to go," I murmur. He's breathing heavily, as am I. He pulls away only far enough to get his jacket off, then is back in my arms, his mouth seeking mine and demanding attention. It's a fierce, hungry kiss, and this beautiful man I love is needy, almost desperate, completely absorbed in the moment. I grin, giving myself over to the moment and the Living Force. I feel a slight pang of regret that I'm shielding, because when he's one with the Living Force this way it can be so intense it nearly makes both of us lose consciousness. Then again, maybe that isn't such a good idea right now. Isn't the idea not to lose myself over him? Shouldn't I be trying to stay neutral?

We tear at each other's clothing, and I back him slowly over to the bed. When the backs of his thighs hit the mattress, he sits down and I kneel in front of him, nuzzling between his legs, making him gasp for breath. I pull back and let him stand up so he can wriggle out of those pants -- they're so tight they practically look painted on him. My eyebrows shoot up as I see that he's wearing nothing at all underneath, which is _not_ like him. I bite my tongue against the teasing comment I want to make, and push him back onto the bed so I can take him in my mouth.

The taste of him, oh Force, he tastes so good. He's already moaning, louder than I expected, threading his fingers through my hair and encouraging me to take him deeper, thrusting up into my mouth and grunting as I suck harder. I pull away from him when his breath starts to catch and I feel him tensing under me. He's too close. I don't want him to come for me just yet. He's young, and has all the stamina of youth, but we're still just getting started.

"Please..." he begs, as I begin to stand up. I laugh quietly.

"Let's finish getting you undressed first, shall we?"

My eyes widen -- I've never seen clothes go flying quite that fast. Naked now, he slides back onto the bed and folds his hands underneath his head, one leg bent at the knee, the other one straight in front of him, waiting for me to finish what I started. I turn away from him, and the feeling of indignation flashes past his shields quicker than he can stop it. I try not to let my smugness show. I pull off my own clothes, folding them neatly before dropping them on the floor -- thank the Force that the cleaning staff here is thorough -- and try not to tremble with need. I haven't felt this way since I was his age -- maybe I've never felt this way at all. I'm just turning around when warm arms wrap around my waist and Obi-Wan presses his body to mine from behind.

"At least you're obviously not going anywhere," he says, hands roaming over my chest, "but you _could_ come back to bed, you know..."

"Persuade me," I tease him. I expect him to move his hands lower, to stroke me, and am very surprised when instead he lets me go. I turn around to find him back on the bed, looking through the selection of lubes and finding one that's edible. I raise an eyebrow as he sits back among the pillows and squirts a bit of lube into his palm. His eyes lock with mine as he begins touching himself, his right hand moving in slow, gentle strokes, slipping around with a faint twisting motion as his hand reaches the head of his cock. I watch, thinking of the many times he must have done this to himself over the years, wondering how many of those times had been spent fantasizing about me, about us...

I crawl onto the bed and settle myself between his legs, flicking my tongue out across the head of his cock as he continues stroking himself. The lubricant tastes faintly of some berry -- not bad at all. I'd never thought of using something edible on him so I could touch him and taste him and drive him mad like this, but I'll have to keep it in mind for the future... I stop myself before I can get distracted with thoughts of the future. The future doesn't matter. Right now, I'm lying between Obi-Wan's legs, and I'm going to get as much pleasure out of the night as I can.

His hand is in the way, and I grab his wrist and pull it to the side, replacing it with my own and stroking him while sucking on the head of his cock. He moans, collapsing, and I let him slip out of my mouth. He looks up. "Tease," he pants.

"Do you want to come in my mouth? Or do you want to come inside me?"

"Both," he grins. "In fairly short order."

Ordinarily, I might complain that youth is wasted on the young. Tonight, though, this will to work to my advantage, so I say nothing. I return to pleasuring him with my mouth and my hands, listening for the gasps and moans that means he's close and keeping him on the edge for as long as possible. I've never been as good at that as I would have liked, but I give it my best effort. By the time I allow him to come in my mouth, he's begging for it. I pull him deeper into my mouth and suck _hard_, and he's bucking against me, screaming his pleasure in incoherent syllables, hands making fists in the blankets, hips thrusting up until I'm forced to hold him down to avoid choking on him. I swallow, and gently move my mouth away from him, making him shudder and gasp. He reaches out and pulls me into his arms, kissing me deeply.

"I love it when you taste like me," he whispers, voice fuzzy from pleasure.

"So do I," I tell him. Our eyes meet, and we realize what we've said.

I think he might have started to get up if I hadn't kissed him again. His mouth opens under mine, and he moans, pulling me closer instead of pulling away from me. His hand reaches between us to find me still hard and ready for him, and I hiss in a breath as his hand curls around me.

"Do you still want to pretend we don't know each other?" he asks. "Or do you want to drop those shields and feel what I feel when you fuck me?"

I make a slightly strangled noise, and he knows it means I want that very badly. He grins, eyes narrowing at me. "You had no idea it was me tonight, did you?"

"Not until you sat down."

"Are you sorry?"

"Force, no." I kiss his forehead. "Do you know how much I wanted this?" _How much I missed this,_ I'd almost said.

"Not half as much as I did," he answers. "I knew, you know, before you sent the holo. Demier, the frost giant from Levinese mythology. I remember going to Levin and hearing people call you Demier. It made you smile."

He'd known who I was. And had wanted me like this. My eyes close as he keeps stroking me, sliding his hand up and down the length of me and squeezing just enough when he reaches the head of my cock.

I feel a gentle brush across my shields, and keeping a tight hold on the part of me that knows full well that I've fallen in love with him, I let go of the rest. I feel him all over and around and through me, feel his desire and satisfaction in having me here with him. If there's any doubt, any regret, I don't feel it, and that's a relief. I let out a long sigh as he covers me with lubricant and strokes me into ecstasy. He's so incredibly good at this, always has been, has always known how I want him to touch me. I remember realizing for the first time, years ago, that he was touching me how he touched himself, and how excited that had made me, excited enough to lose control and spill myself all over his hands. He'd kissed me and told me it was beautiful.

I hold on this time, not wanting to let it end until I'm inside him. He lets me go after a while, and slips the lubricant into my hand. "Get me ready," he murmurs. I kiss him, gently, sucking his lower lip into my mouth before letting him go and raising up on my knees.

He turns around and pushes up on all fours, presenting one of the finest asses in the Jedi Order to me, and I bend forward to kiss one of those perfect round globes... then find myself licking closer and closer to the cleft between them, making him gasp with surprise and anticipation. I slide my tongue around his opening, parting his flesh with my tongue, pressing forward and licking that tight ring of muscle that I so desperately want to slide past... making him shiver, his arms nearly giving out. I hum my pleasure into him, and he cries out.

"Qui, please, I need you in me..."

"You want me to stop?"

"No!" he moans, then laughs. "But I want you so badly..."

I go back to licking his gorgeous ass, making my tongue into a hard point and pressing hard against that ring. He gasps and presses back against me, and I put my hands on either side of his cleft to open him further for me. He murmurs his approval. I slide my tongue into him, licking him in long, slow strokes, until he pushes away from me, panting.

"You have to stop, or I'll..." He gasps for breath. "And I want you in me for that. In me, with your hand on me, wrapped around me, squeezing hard..."

It's my turn to moan. I open the lubricant, coat my hand, and slide two lube-slicked fingers into him. He grunts, but his body adjusts quickly, and in seconds he's pushing back against me. "Now," he gasps, "that's enough, now, please..."

Another quick application of lubricant to myself, and I climb up on my knees behind him. I hear him in my head: //Yesyesyes_yesyes_...//

And when I slide inside him, my thoughts are pretty much the same.

I reach around him to take his cock in my hand and stroke him as I move deep within him and find ecstasy. He's almost trembling now, and it's so moving, so arousing, that I nearly lose myself. He shares the sensation of being taken with me -- the warmth of my body behind him, the length of me filling him just shy of the point of pain, my cock brushing against his prostate and making stars explode behind his eyes. I share the sensation of taking him -- the glorious view of his body, the tight warmth of being inside him, the need I'd been feeling for so long. I'm closer to losing control than I've ever been with him. It's all I can do to hold back, and he senses it. I can feel the impatience from him vibrating through my mind.

//Force take us both, don't hold back. Fuck me. Come for me. _Now._//

//Obi-Wan...!//

I nearly scream as I come for him, slamming into him with one hand on his hip and the other, probably too tight, around his cock. He throws his head back and yells as he spills his seed over my hand, yells my name, _mine_, oh Force, this is too good to be true...

We collapse on the bed together, both grimacing as I slip out of him. I roll off him just enough to give him room to breathe, but I curl my body around his and hold him.

_I love you, Obi-Wan,_ I think, and only realize I hadn't shielded it well enough when he sends back, //I thought so.//

"Fuck," I blurt out, pushing away from him. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh, stop it." He turns to me and forcibly rolls me back into his arms. "We were going to have to deal with this eventually. Why not now?"

"You're still my student."

"Yes, but I have my own feelings, my own thoughts and needs, apart from my role as your apprentice." His voice softens. "And I think I need this." I say nothing. He brushes his fingertips across my cheek. "I want to be able to act on my desire for you without resorting to meeting you in a chat room and pretending we don't know each other first. I want to stop pretending. I'm not ashamed of being attracted to you, and I'm sick of hiding it."

"And I still think it's a bad idea."

"How much worse is it for us to repress our feelings for each other, to cut each other off from this part of our connection? Are you wasting as much energy shielding from me as I am from you? There are times I look at you and can barely feel anything from you, as if we're strangers. How can you teach me if you're trying to keep me at arm's length all the time?"

"How can I teach you if I'm so tied to you I can't take that step back?" I ask him. "Do you think I can be objective about you now?"

"I think you're assuming too much. I didn't ask you for any ties, any bonds, any commitments." He pulls away from me. "I never did, you know."

"What _are_ you asking for?"

He stands up, tugging on his clothes and staring at me in frustration. "You know, I'm not entirely certain. Perhaps we should meditate on it before this happens again. What do you think?"

I know that was meant to be ironic, but he has a point. "I think you're right."

Surprise writes itself all over his face. "About what?"

"For one, that pretending is a poor way of dealing with things between us. For another, we should meditate on this before we end up in bed again. And..." I don't know what I want, either. But I don't have to tell him that. We haven't drawn away from each other yet, and my thoughts are very clear to him.

His mouth quirks at one corner. "You never did know what you wanted. But that's all right. I never gave you much of a chance."

He leaves before I can say anything more. I fall back onto the bed. Force willing, things will work themselves out somehow.

_-end-_


End file.
